Part 2: Let's See What Happens
by Zoe Mae
Summary: The conclusion to “You Can Always Say Stop.” A series of events leads Grissom to rethink why he keeps his distance from Sara. Set after 5x20.
1. Karmic Lesson

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters, much to my dismay.

FEEDBACK: Any and all feedback welcome. (Thank you to all those who commented on my pieces. So very much appreciated!!)

SUMMARY: The conclusion to "You Can Always Say Stop." A series of events leads Grissom to rethink why he keeps his distance from Sara. Set after "Committed."

AUTHORS' NOTES: Play With Fire, Committed, Nesting Dolls, Butterflied, Invisible Evidence, Bloodlines, Down the Drain. Thank you to MYBIGBLUEBOX, for helping me figure out how this thing works!

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**Chapter 1 – Karmic Lesson**

_Do you believe that everything happens for a reason? That bad things are there to teach us a karmic lesson?_

The rain pounded on the windshield of the Denali. Sara was lost in thought as she watched the rain trickle down her window. Grissom pretended to be absorbed in concentration as he navigated through the storm back to the lab, but his mind was still at the hospital. He would glance over at Sara, but all he could see was the shard of pottery poised at her throat. He caught her reflection in the window, the rain making it look as though Sara were crying. By the look he saw on her face, it wasn't much of a leap.

They rode back in silence, Sara not knowing what to say after being held captive, and Grissom not knowing what he could say to console her. She had wanted to finish the case, so he left it at that.

Sara stayed true to her decision to move beyond how this case affected her, working alongside Grissom to see the case to its conclusion. Every once in a while Grissom would pause, wanting to ask her how she was doing. But he didn't want to keep coming back to it, especially when he saw the determination in her eyes. He knew Sara was strong, so much more than he had ever really given her credit for, so he gave her the space she needed. But every time she was able to make eye contact, he made sure at the very least not to hide his concern. Not hiding from her at this point was the least he could do.

And now Grissom watched her carefully as Sara watched the officer arrest Joanne McKay. He looked at her reflection in the glass, and it was the same look as the look in the car. Reflected in a shield of glass was the only time Grissom could see Sara's own shield of strength dissolve.

He tried to offer her some solace, some closure to such a hard ordeal. "Well, jail or no jail, she won't last six months. She'll die without her son."

"That would be better for both of them."

Grissom was surprised at her admission, but at the same time found himself overcome with wanting to take her in his arms and make all the pain she felt at this moment go away. But he simply nodded, leaving Sara to watch the empty room that only moments ago held a room full of lies and pain.

Sara only felt him leave, the warmth of his body near her suddenly gone as she stood enveloped in the ghosts from her past. She turned around in a fog and headed towards the locker room. She sat down on the bench, her eyes blank, unfocused. It was then that she allowed herself to feel the exhaustion from working this case. She closed her eyes as tears burned behind her heavy lids. At that point she was too tired to move, clutching the bench and leaning forward, stray tears being absorbed by the denim fabric of her jeans. She wasn't ready to face the loneliness and silence of her empty apartment, but she had nothing to keep her here. Wearily she gathered her things, not stopping before she made her way to her car. She thought of stopping to say goodnight to Grissom, but was afraid that if she heard her own voice, she might break down in front of him. Once over the past couple of weeks was enough.

Back in his office, Grissom sat staring at his desk. He couldn't shake the image of Sara in the arms of Adam Trent. Too many things lately were occurring to make him question everything he was doing to make sure he kept his distance from her. He looked at the butterflies on his shelf, and images of Debbie Marlin flooded back into his consciousness. That case continued to haunt him, and this recent case could have made that nightmare a reality. Maybe these were all signs. It was clear that these cases were getting to him, if only because he kept seeing Sara in danger and the thought alone paralyzed him.

_Oh dear God._

When he had found Debbie's lifeless body, pale and slender, it had shaken him to the core. He couldn't get outside fast enough to find Sara, to look at her, to see her breathing and full of life. As the case unfolded, the similarities to his own life were uncanny, and he tried to reconcile that never having Sara was better than having her and losing her. He was Vincent Lurie, an aging soul lusting after the vivaciousness and exuberance of youth, embodied in a beautiful woman.

_It's sad, isn't it, doc? Guys like us. Couple of middle-aged men who've allowed their work to consume their lives. The only time we ever touch other people is when we're wearing our latex gloves. We wake up one day and realize that for fifty years we haven't really lived at all._

Grissom had spent most of his life on the outside of love looking in, never feeling enough for someone to actually want to take the risk and see what a life of love could be like.

But then_…all of a sudden, we get a second chance…_he taught a seminar in San Francisco.Where_…somebody young and beautiful shows up…_he met Sara Sidle, a young college student, smart, beautiful, and everything he wanted in another person. Everything he wanted…s_omebody…we could care about… _with fifteen years and a hard-earned career standing in the way.

_Would you like to have dinner with me?_

_She offers us a new life with her…but we have a big decision to make, right? Because we have to risk everything we've worked for in order to have her._

_No._

_Why not? Let's have dinner. Let's see what happens._

And so Grissom chose his career, the one thing that he could rely on not to leave. And the one thing he couldn't hurt.

_I couldn't do it… but you did. You risked it all…and she showed you a wonderful life, didn't she? But then she took it away and gave it to somebody else…and you were lost. So you took her life._

Lurie killed her because she left him, because she realized that she could do better than someone wasting away with time.

Grissom knew he could never do what Vincent Lurie did; he could never hurt Sara if she decided to leave. But he didn't want to feel the pain Lurie clearly felt at losing what he had built his life around. He couldn't bear the day when Sara woke up and realized she was wasting her time. When another Hank showed up and showed Sara what life should really be like. So he didn't take the risk.

But Lurie took the risk. And Sara wasn't Debbie Marlin. What would happen if he never got the chance to tell her how he felt? Adam Trent could have ended any possibility. All of a sudden it didn't matter anymore what he would lose. If he didn't have Sara, what did he have?

He gathered his things and left his office, not stopping until he reached his car. Adam Trent had shown him how precious time can be. He wasn't going to wait for anything else to teach him that life could be over in an instant. As he sped to her apartment, he wished it hadn't taken a psychiatric patient with a shard of pottery to make him realize that he should have taken the risk a long time ago.


	2. Aftermath

**Chapter 2 – Aftermath**

_You know, by the time you figure it out, you really could be too late._

Coming back to work after his surgery, Grissom thought things would be easier, but in fact it had gotten harder. His hearing had returned, but the damage was already done. Every time he was in the same room with Sara, he could see just what kind of damage he caused, the aftermath of having refused her invitation. She never said anything, but her eyes carried the look of shame and defeat. She had extended herself to him, and he denied her. Sara had wanted him, and he didn't understand it, so he pushed her away again. And now when she looked at him that was all he could see: a missed opportunity, trapped forever in her brown eyes.

But one day he walked by to find her studying the bloody sheet from a case, and hesitated a moment before entering the room. He watched her as she concentrated, and wondered what was going through her mind. Cautiously he walked up to her, standing beside her as she continued to study the sheet.

"Checking my work?"

"Oh, I'm just looking around."

Grissom looked at her a moment, curiously. "What are you thinking?"

"Well, her body left behind this void." Sara walked up to the sheet, her palms out to indicate the area. She turned back around to face Grissom. "The attacker was on top. He held her down by her wrists."

"Which would explain the transfer of wax from him to her."

"Yes."

Grissom nodded, looking at her for a moment. He noticed a change in her eyes. For a moment he thought he saw a flash of lust.

"Pin me down." The words came out a seductive command.

Grissom was slightly taken aback, but only nodded with compliance at her request. Sara kept her eyes fixed on him as he walked closer to her, placing his hands on her gently to mock pinning her down on the bed sheet. He couldn't meet her eyes at first, so he concentrated on watching his hands as he grasped her slender wrists. As Sara explained her rationale, she struggled against his grip.

"She would have struggled. Then, she gave up."

The whole time she spoke, he watched her, watched her arms as she pushed against him, watched her lips as they moved. He barely heard the words she was saying as his mind raced, imagining her pinned beneath him on his own sheets, her warm body writhing under his. As she struggled beneath him, he struggled over her. Struggled to keep himself away from her when everything in his mind screamed to take her.

"Afterward, when he got up, he put his hands on the sheet for leverage."

Grissom brought his hands down slowly to surround her waist. As he lowered his hands, he brought his gaze down, taking in the way her shirt clung to the curves of her body. He imagined grasping her shirt, lifting it over her head to reveal her smooth, bare skin. He envisioned the softness, the warmth, the way her body would arch, the way her hair would play on her freckled shoulders.

Sara watched Grissom's hands, trying to focus but wondering where his hands would stop. She hoped his hands would skim her slightly, a touch by chance, but she knew a touch like that could be dangerous. She could feel the heat from his body, his breath on her neck. He was so close to her, their bodies almost touching, that it was almost too much for her to take.

It proved almost too much for him to take as well. He had to continue talking about the scene before he stopped talking altogether, before he brushed the wavy tresses away from her cheek, to pepper her face and neck with fervent kisses.

"Like this." His hands hovered close to her waist, careful not to touch her. If he touched her, all bets were off.

Sara simply nodded, her attention on Grissom's arms around her, her body aching to close what little gap remained.

"Which explains how the wax got from him to the sheets," he continued.

Sara was finally able to bring up her eyes, pinning Grissom in a sultry gaze. "Yes." The word dripped out like honey. For a moment they stood there, eyes locked on each other. Sara saw with unmistakable clarity the longing in Grissom's blue eyes. Another second, and the pull would be too strong. With a deep breath, Sara broke the awkward silence.

"Grissom, um, I, um, wanted to talk to you about something." She escaped his arms and his gaze, returning to the spot she originally stood before asking her supervisor to pin her to a bed sheet. The words now tumbled awkwardly from her mouth, the hypnotic spell broken.

Grissom turned, continuing to watch her, simultaneously relieved and disappointed to have her out of his arms, and out of the feverish trance. "Go ahead."

"Well, you know, I applied for the promotion for the key position."

"Your application's on my desk."

"About that -- I, um…I needed to know..." Sara hesitated, and the lust that was there before was replaced by apprehension. "I ... I wanted to make sure, rather, that anything that happened or didn't happen between us won't be a factor." She stumbled over her words, clearly uncomfortable with any conversation concerning their complicated relationship.

Grissom furrowed his brows in confusion. Was she talking about her dinner invitation? Was she talking about what could have happened just now? He just continued to stare at her, completely at a loss for how to respond.

Sara watched him expectantly, but when she saw how lost he looked, she just continued. "Nevermind. I-I shouldn't have said anything." She turned around as if looking for something, and Grissom continued to watch her, mouth agape.

She offered him a smile, albeit clearly embarrassed. "I, um ... I'm always over-talking around you." With that she walked out of the room, leaving Grissom to ruminate over what just happened.

One thing was clear. He needed to distance himself from her again lest something like this happen once more. Being mere inches from her smoldering eyes and wanting lips, he couldn't risk it. The tension was mounting, she was too intoxicating, and he needed to be able to work. He needed to be able to breathe.

Pull her in, push her away.

But a few weeks later, a murder changed everything.

Debbie Marlin, a slender, pale brunette, adorned with a butterfly tattoo, her whole house adorned with a myriad of butterflies, was found murdered in her home. Her lifeless body in a child's pose, her head resting softly against the ceramic tile of her shower. Her brown eyes were open and blank, as if looking straight through him. Her blood surrounded her, crimson red against a checkerboard floor.

Forgetting the crime scene for a moment, Grissom just stared at her. He was transfixed by the long dark hair, pale skin and slender form that easily could have been Sara Sidle. But it wasn't Sara, it was Debbie Marlin, but the resemblance was so eerie that Grissom needed to escape.

The blank eyes haunted him as he set foot outside. Sara turned and looked at him, and he couldn't, wouldn't, take his eyes off her. They locked eyes, and all he saw was Debbie Marlin, lying on the cold, bloodied shower tiles. No case had ever been able to affect him so deeply, and he was shaken as to how he was feeling.

Scared.

For the first time, a case made him feel fear.

He kept watching Sara, as if by looking at her he could keep her alive, keep her with him, keep her from danger. Her eyes studied him, and he felt as though she were reading his thoughts. Looking through him as Debbie Marlin had. He knew he must have appeared unsettled, and could not let Sara inside the house to see her twin lying dead in a pool of her own blood. Maybe to protect her, or maybe to keep her from seeing why he was so shaken. Surely the resemblance could be seen by anyone, and it was a risk he couldn't take.

Back inside, he could not take his eyes off Debbie Marlin. If Catherine noticed the likeness, she didn't let on. If she noticed how distracted he was, she didn't let that on either.

He worked the rest of the case absorbed with thoughts of Sara. Pictures of Debbie revealed youth, energy, and a haunting gap-toothed smile. He imagined Debbie sitting behind him at her vanity as he stared into her mirror. The image of Debbie transformed into Sara, and Grissom couldn't stop looking. He couldn't stop obsessing.

The thoughts haunted him through the entire case. Face to face with Debbie's killer, Grissom let down his guard to complete stranger.

"Because we have to risk everything we've worked for in order to have her."

Grissom averted his gaze to the table, admitting to Vincent Lurie that he couldn't do what he did. He couldn't take the risk. He couldn't let her in. Seeing what losing something so valuable did to Vincent Lurie, he wasn't sure he could ever take the risk.

"You killed them both, and now you have nothing."

"I'm still here."

"Are you?"

More so, was he? All the things he said was less an accusation. He empathized with a murderer, and that disturbed him.

From behind the glass, Sara watched him. And finally she understood. She wasn't worth the risk. She watched as Grissom's posture slumped to one of defeat, his eyes downcast.

What was left for either of them now? She needed something to fill the emptiness.


	3. Ghosts

**Chapter 3 – Ghosts**

_I haven't seen you for a while, have I?_

_You see me every day._

Grissom sat at his desk going over files when the phone rang.

"Grissom." On the other end, words of Sara being in trouble echoed in his ears. "Is she alright?"

As he hung up the phone, he felt panic spread through his chest. He wanted to be angry, but found himself worried instead. This wasn't like Sara. He didn't even think she drank, much less drive intoxicated. Had he missed something? He suspected something, if only because he saw the vehemence with which she worked start to wane. He knew she didn't sleep a great deal, and she was losing weight off her already slender frame. Earlier that week he suggested she take some time off, but she had scoffed at the idea. Overworked, frail, and now driving under the influence? His suspicions were dead on.

He arrived at the police station to see Sara sitting alone in the waiting room. Her expression was impassive as she stared at the wall in front of her, her chin resting on her hands. He wasn't sure if she knew he was there, so he approached her slowly. But even when he sat down, her gaze didn't leave the wall.

Sighing, he reached for her hand. He laced his fingers with hers, their skin meshing. Her fingers were gaunt, her flesh cool. For the first time since the lab explosion he was genuinely worried about Sara's condition. But different from the explosion, Sara was doing this to herself.

"Come on, I'll take you home."

Sara lowered her head, unable to bring her gaze up to her supervisor. Her cheeks burned as Grissom looked at her. She would rather have him be furious with her than look at her with eyes that shone with compassion.

She released her hand from Grissom's warm grip to stand up, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor. She feared that the longer she held on, the harder it would be to let go.

Grissom followed her out, his hand resting on the small of her back, and for a moment thought that she was shaking until he realized it was he who trembled with emotion. The worry, the confusion, and the fear were all starting to take their toll. And for Grissom, he was caught between trying to offer help and keep his distance.

They walked in silence to her car, and Sara felt too ashamed to offer Grissom an explanation. She was relieved that up until this point, he didn't ask. She remained quiet as he drove, staring out the window to avoid any sideways glances from her supervisor who, moments ago, was holding on to her hand.

Breaking the silence, Sara finally spoke, her voice soft. "I'm sorry."

Grissom heard the weariness in Sara's words. The last thing he was expecting from her was an apology, and he did not really want one. He furrowed his brow and glanced over at her before looking back to the road. "Sara…I don't want an apology. I…just…I want to make sure you are okay." He wanted to say more than that, wanted to tell her that he was glad nothing happened to her, glad that he could be there to help her. He wanted to protect her, keep her safe. So many things he wanted to say but feared saying them out loud.

His words moved her, and she pursed her lips together to quell the nervous smile tugging at the corners. As he approached her apartment, she looked over at him, gratitude glistening in her glossy eyes. He pulled up to the curb and put the car in park before he looked back at her. He shifted his jaw, looking slightly unsure of what to do. Sara was accustomed to this type of reaction from Grissom, especially after reservedly admitting concern. With liquid courage, she continued speaking.

"I'll be okay," she said, with a confidence she knew was more just to convince him. "Thank you…for driving me home."

"You're welcome." He paused, still feeling awkward. Seeing Sara like this like, he felt like he walked in on something he wasn't supposed to see. Having to act like her supervisor in this situation seemed unnatural, but it was better than the alternative of acting like her friend. A friend, he conceded, would have noticed the warning signs and done something about it. "I think maybe you should take some of that vacation time."

Sara had conceded to the fact that things were starting to spiral out of control. Ending up in Grissom's car under these circumstances was all the warning she needed. She had a feeling things would get worse before they got better, but she was determined to make Grissom think she was fine. She just nodded in agreement, lingering a moment before reaching for the door handle. "Thanks again."

"Sara…" Grissom still looked unsure and apprehensive. "Are you sure you are okay?"

"Yeah," Sara lied. "I'm fine." She knew that showing his concern was hard for him, because she knew that he'd rather remain distant and detached from her. After hearing what he said to Vincent Lurie, she knew he at least cared, even if he could never show her. It didn't make it easier, in fact, it made it harder on her, but she loved him enough to accept his decision. "I'll see you in a week."

She got out of the car, and Grissom just watched as she made her way to her apartment. Being her supervisor was far too complicated. Not being able to help her only made it more so.

So when she returned to work only to risk getting evidence in the face of pipe bombs, he started to question again just how well she was doing. Standing next to her in the lab, he broached the subject carefully.

"So what were you trying to prove with this door?"

Sara continued to look through her magnifying glass. "I was just collecting evidence."

"Well, Greg couldn't pull any DNA from the bones, so there's nothing to connect the victim to this anyway."

She put down the magnifying glass, looking up at Grissom. "Not yet." Grissom looked back at her skeptically, and Sara brought her attention back down to the door on the table. She knew where he was going with this.

"I don't have a death wish, and I'm not a drunk, in case you were worried."

"I'm not worried." He paused and looked away from her, as if making sure no one would be able to hear him. "I'm concerned," he admitted, in a low voice as if confessing a secret he was uncomfortable acknowledging. He walked away from her, his back turned as a smile blossomed on Sara's face.

She returned her gaze to her magnifying glass, letting his denial through semantics hang gently between them. "Isn't that kind of the same thing?"

Grissom got back to work, not denying the sentiment, but not confirming it either. He knew she was neither a drunk, nor did she have a death wish. He also knew that he was both worried and concerned, no matter what word he chose. And he knew that Sara was unraveling, and that he didn't understand why.

He found out a couple of weeks later.

"The fights, the yelling, the trips to the hospital. I thought it was the way that everybody lived. When my mother killed my father, I found out that it wasn't."

As Sara cried over her lost childhood, Grissom finally understood what made Sara Sidle tick. She was a walking time bomb, fueled by unresolved issues of pain, and cases that made the ghosts of her past alive and tangible. He reached out and grabbed hold of her hand, more confused now than ever as to what he should do about the feelings for her that beleaguered his heart.

As he watched a couple of weeks later as a psychiatric patient held a shard of pottery to her throat, the confusion finally cleared.


	4. The Risk

**Chapter 4 – The Risk**

_Let's see what happens._

Grissom stood on the doorstep to Sara's apartment. The last time he was here, she confided in him about her troubled past. As he prepared to knock on her door, he prayed he wasn't too late to ask that she be a part of his future.

"Grissom," Sara stood in her doorway, wrapped in a silken, pale pink robe, her chestnut hair in soft ringlets. She looked perfect, like an angel, except for her flushed cheeks and glistening, red eyes. Before she could ask what he was doing there, his hand was on her cheek, brushing the tears with his thumb.

"Sara, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

Sara closed her eyes, pressing her face into Grissom's warm palm. "I'm tired," she whispered. "I'm so tired." With that, Sara crumbled and started to sob.

Grissom scooped her up before she sunk to the floor, encircling his arms around her willowy frame. He guided her to her couch, where he held her as she got swept up in her emotions. He stroked her velvety curls, peppering the top of her head with light kisses.

"Honey, it's okay." Grissom held her close as Sara's tears seeped into his shirt. When her tears began to ebb, the cloud of emotion dissipated and Sara looked up at Grissom, suddenly realizing she had no idea why he was here holding her.

"What are you doing here, Grissom?"

Grissom looked at her gently. "I'm worried about you." Sitting here with her now, he was still having trouble finding the words to tell her why he raced over. He was worried about her, but he was stalling.

Sara was indeed tired of many things, but at the top of that list was Gil Grissom, and his constant emotional tango. A shard of pottery and Adam Trent made her realize that maybe she was wasting her time. Seeing her life flash before her eyes, she wasn't sure what she was doing anymore. Her exhaustion morphed into anger. "Is that all you have to say?"

Grissom looked at her, his brows furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"Now you're worried about me? First, you _could_ care about me, but apparently I'm not worth the risk? Which one is it?"

Grissom shifted his jaw, the look of confusion still etched into his features. "Sara, I…I don't know what you're talking about." At the back of his mind, words to Vincent Lurie started to seep into his consciousness.

_Somebody young and beautiful shows up. Somebody…we could care about…_

But how could she have known about that?

"I heard you, Grissom. I heard you when you were talking to Vincent Lurie. All this time, you couldn't talk to me, but you could confide in a murder suspect?"

Grissom's heart sank. Once he started talking to Lurie, he found it hard to stop. It was almost like confessing to a priest, a third party that might be able to absolve him from his guilt. He had never meant for her to hear those words. "Sara…"

"You know, I knew you were confused, but I didn't know you had finally made a decision."

"Sara, it's not like that…"

"It's fine, Grissom. At least I know the truth." Sara's eyes were blank. She was Debbie Marlin, her life stolen from her because of a man she once loved. He was Lurie, draining the life from the person he loved.

"No, Sara, you don't know the truth. You don't know why I said that, or what I have been thinking about it since."

Sara sighed heavily, as if the weight of the conversation was more than she could bear. "Then why don't you tell me, Grissom, because I'm tired of playing games and I'm tired of making assumptions as to why I wasn't worth the risk."

"When you asked me to dinner, I didn't know what to do. I wasn't really in a good place, and I thought you were only asking because of the accident, and I thought you were still with Hank."

Sara looked confused for a moment. She never took Hank into consideration. She remembered the day Grissom found out about the relationship with Hank that she tried to deny. She remembered the crestfallen look on his face that he tried to hide, but his eyes had betrayed him. "I never was with Hank," she said softly. "And even still, the whole time he had a girlfriend and he never mentioned it. I found out when I happened to end up at her house during the investigation."

Grissom furrowed his brows in compassion. Even though he was disappointed by founding out from someone else, he didn't think Sara should have been deceived either.

Hank aside, there was still tension between them, and they continued to dance around the subject with words and looks and innuendos. And she still wanted an explanation for what she overheard. "What about Lurie?"

Grissom looked thoughtful for a moment, trying to figure out how to explain how he ended up making a confession to a murder suspect. But moreover, it was the confession itself he needed to explain.

"Ever since the case with Lurie, I realized what could happen if I let you into my life. I realized that I could be him one day, that you'd realize you'd want someone younger and that you'd leave, and…I saw what it did to him…I didn't want that to be me."

"But you never even gave me a chance." Her voice was soft, with a hint of sadness.

"I convinced myself that never having you was better than having you and losing you. But then at the hospital…Sara, I haven't been able to sleep at night without images of you trapped in that room, and me not being able to do anything from behind the glass." Grissom brought up his hand to cup Sara's face, his thumb stroking the delicate skin of her cheek.

"How do I know that you won't change your mind tomorrow? This is what you do, Grissom, you pull me in and make me think I have a chance, I can see it in your eyes that you feel something, and even when I heard you talking to Lurie, I knew you felt something, but then you deny it over and over and you push me away again." Sara began to tremble as her eyes filled with tears. "I can't keep doing this, Grissom, I can't keep getting my hopes up just to have you crush them. Every time you put up that wall, it kills me. Do you get that? This is killing me."

With both hands, Grissom seized her, capturing her in a searing kiss. A small gasp escaped through Sara's parted lips as she returned all the passion she felt in that breathless moment. Her lips were soft and warm, and he was lost in the taste of her. Before he succumbed to the passion overtaking him, he had one more thing to tell her.

He pulled away to look in her eyes, her brown eyes glistening with tears. "Sara, I get it now. When I saw you with Adam Trent, I…I realized something could happen and I'd lose you forever. It doesn't matter the repercussions anymore. I can't lose you. Not now, not ever."

Their lips met again, this time Sara bringing him back with slender fingers tangled in his curls. "I've wanted this for so long…" she whispered into Grissom's mouth, not wanting to break the passionate union.

As Grissom slipped the robe from Sara's shoulders, relishing in the softness that far exceeded his imagination, he whispered back, "As have I."


End file.
